


Into It

by threeturn



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, White House Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 07:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10635351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeturn/pseuds/threeturn
Summary: Tommy and Lovett leave a party early. Set back during the White House years when they were living together.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [south china sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10539816) by [nahco3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nahco3/pseuds/nahco3). 



> This story owes its very existence to [nahco3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nahco3/pseuds/nahco3)'s fantastic [south china sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10539816), to which this is sort of one possible sequel. So HUGE thanks to Grace for that fic and for looking over this fic and for all her amazing [tumblr posts](https://baking-soda.tumblr.com/) that made me ship it and ship it like this. I'm also super grateful to [disarm_d](https://archiveofourown.org/users/disarm_d), whose brilliant eye helped me SO much with this and to [veryspecificfantasies](https://veryspecificfantasies.tumblr.com/) for her spot-on suggestions and supportive handholding ♥

Jon was at the reception only because Tommy had asked if he wanted to come too. "It'll be boring though, probably, a bunch of suits," Tommy had warned him, but then Jon surprised himself by saying yes.

Tommy was right, but Jon was still having an okay time. There were plenty of people who wanted to hear him talk—they seemed to think he was some kind of delightful eccentric because he wasn't wearing a tie—and he could usually see Tommy out of the corner of his eye, listening to somebody important and looking concerned. Tommy fit right in with the marble tiling and antique bookcases. He looked like a model in a classy furniture catalog. It wasn't that Tommy ought to be president, Jon thought, it was that he ought to be first lady. First gentleman. Whatever. He was that smooth.

The longer they stayed, the more implausible it seemed that just last week Tommy had put Jon's dick in his mouth. It was some kind of hallucination, probably; the blond man in the slim gray suit currently talking to the blonde woman in the sleek black dress couldn't have blushed and stammered and asked to suck Jon's cock, or looked bizarrely grateful when Jon said yes. In fact, Tommy should go home with that—Norwegian ambassador, probably. Propose, have seven blond children, become, at the very least, First Gentleman of Norway. Or wherever. Somewhere cold.

Jon felt extremely noble and self-sacrificing, and also like he wanted to pull Tommy into a bathroom and see for himself whether he'd made it all up: that time in Tommy's office, or a couple of days ago at home, when Jon was absolutely going to load the dishwasher, and then Tommy sort of trailed into the kitchen with his laptop, and they looked at each other, and Tommy put his laptop down, and that time it was Jon on his knees with Tommy backed up against the counter, which was stupid, because if you did it twice it was like—almost a thing.

Jon was unfortunately thinking of other stuff they could do—pointless given that Tommy looked like he was five minutes from getting straight-married in Scandinavia—when Tommy glided up to him and said, "Do you want to get out of here?"

"God, Tommy, you're such a national security ninja, I didn't see you coming," Jon lied, as if he hadn't been watching him like some kind of perverted sex hawk all evening. "Sure, whatever."

They'd come in Tommy's car, so now Tommy sat in the driver's seat and said, "Did you want to go get, like, a drink or something?" and didn't look at Jon. Even in the dim light Jon could tell Tommy's cheeks were reddening.

Jon said, "We have drinks at home," and Tommy blinked, and yeah, clearly Jon hadn't hallucinated a goddamn thing.

Tommy drove very carefully and at moderate speed. Normally Jon was glad that Tommy tried so hard to protect them both but right now it was driving him crazy.

"If my house was burning down and you came to save me—" Jon started.

"I'm the fireman?" Tommy sounded pleased.

"You're basically the fire chief, because you're so hot. And I'd be like, _Ooh Mister Fireman, carry me away_ —you wouldn't be wearing the big coat in this scenario, just the overalls—but you'd be like, _Let's take a minute to review fire safety protocols first_."

Tommy sighed. "We're in traffic. How much faster do you think I can go?"

"I don't know," said Jon, staring up at the red light. "Why would you want to go fast? Oh, by the way, how do you feel about anal sex?"

"Jesus, Lovett."

"Nothing personal," said Jon, "just wondered if it was like, something you have a carefully considered opinion about." It was one of those moments where Jon knew he was acting like a complete lunatic but the words just kept coming and Favs wasn't there to make him shut the fuck up. "I mean, I'm sure you've done it with the ladies, super slow and gentle probably, like _are you okay? can I make any adjustments that would improve this experience?"_

"Well," said Tommy. "It sounds like you've got this all figured out."

Jon looked at how tightly Tommy was holding the wheel with both hands. "Anyway, I'm sure you're awesome at that and obviously I'm here for you if you wanted to treat me right, but like. What about the other way around? Because I didn't think you'd know how to suck dick either, but you were a fucking pro. Like some kind of cock-sucking Eagle Scout—"

"Lovett." Tommy's voice sounded a little higher than usual.

"I'd give you a merit badge, that's all I'm saying. Actually no, that's not all I'm saying—"

"—of course not—" 

"Just you could be a genius at taking it up the ass for all I know. Some kind of Olympic-level prodigy. You'd look so pretty on my dick—do you go red all over? I bet you do—that reminds me, I've never actually seen you naked? Not that you and Favs don't yank your shirts off at any opportunity, fucking goons, prancing around like _oh look at me, I'm incredibly handsome and pretending I don't know it_ , but that doesn't count, does it? I don't think that counts."

"What exactly does counting mean in this context?" asked Tommy.

"That's a good point," said Jon, talking faster, "Counting as in, naked for _me_ , personally, because you want me to _see_ you, because you do, I know you do, jesus, Tommy, tell me to shut up."

"Shut up, Jon," said Tommy gently.

"Right," said Jon. "I can do that." They were a block from home. There was a moment of silence in which Jon tried to have marginally less of a hard-on. Discreetly and unsuccessfully, he also tried to check out Tommy's lap to see if he was having the same problem. "Anyway," Jon said, giving up, "not to be a gay predator or anything. We could obviously just watch Parks and Rec instead."

"Instead of what?" Tommy was parking.

"Nothing," said Jon, popping his seat belt. "We never touch again. We never touched in the first place. I could move out. I could be the heartwarming homosexual adventure who moved to LA."

Tommy turned off the ignition. "Is this like when you said if you had to do the dishes you'd move in with Favs? Really ramping up the threat level there, Lovett."

Jon didn't want to think about the whole leaving DC for LA thing right now, so he got out of the car to change the subject. "Anyway, it was a nice party," he called back to Tommy. "Very civilized."

Tommy caught up with him at the front door, where Jon was waiting because he forgot his keys. "Show off," said Jon, watching Tommy unlock the door. "Oh my name is Tommy, my hands are so sexy and _capable_."

"That has literally never crossed my mind," said Tommy, waving Jon into their apartment. "You think my hands are sexy, Lovett?"

"Oh god, whatever," said Jon. "Your hands are the worst, put them in my mouth."

"I can't—what?"

"Doesn't matter. Tommy—" He could hear the whine in his own voice. It was embarrassing for the split second before Tommy kissed him, pushing him back against the wall. Jon squirmed against Tommy's long body and tried to tug Tommy's suit jacket off his shoulders, which was hard because, oh god, Tommy was holding Jon's face as he kissed him.

When Tommy pulled back, his lips were all pink and shiny and he still looked, impossibly, a little bit nervous. He whispered, "Is it okay if we don't watch tv?"

"Only if you're feeling geopolitically stressed," said Jon. He was unbuttoning Tommy's shirt and Tommy was letting him. "And if you admit you're a raging sex freak who forced us to leave that amazing party just so you could get off. You just start kissing me with no provocation, really? Very caveman, not very articulate—" 

Tommy said, "We could, like, go—" and waved in the direction of his bedroom, which was a good call because Jon probably hadn't made his own bed that morning. Tommy's shirt was hanging open now.

"Pure poetry," said Jon, gazing at Tommy's bare chest. "Okay, come on."

Tommy's bedroom was as usual bizarrely orderly and well-kept. Even his tasteful blue and gray duvet cover made Jon feel messy and loud. Tommy pulled his shirt off, his back to Jon. It made Jon want to come on his pale, freckled skin. Then Tommy turned around and shrugged like _I know I'm not much but_ , and Jon rolled his eyes. "Don't give me that, Tommy, you know what you look like."

"A few days ago you told me I looked like an off-white greyhound with anxiety issues," Tommy pointed out.

"But in a sexy way," Jon said.

He pulled his own shirt off and closed the gap between him and Tommy really quickly so Tommy wouldn't have time to look. Tommy opened his mouth for Jon eagerly, holding him tight, his hands sliding over Jon's back. Jon could feel Tommy's hard-on pressing against him. He reached one hand between them to start working at the clasp of Tommy's pants. Tommy's breath caught. "Is this going to count?"

"Once it's all off," said Jon, and got down on one knee to pull Tommy's pants over his hips. Tommy put a hand on Jon's shoulder to steady himself while he stepped out of them. Jon leaned in to Tommy's dick for just a moment and then pulled down Tommy's boxer briefs, since he was already there and all. "So attractive," he said to Tommy's dick.

When he looked up, Tommy's face was desperate. "Jon," said Tommy. "Jon, get up here."

"You don't want me to blow you for like three seconds?" Jon licked his lips. 

"I won't—last," Tommy gritted out, and yanked Jon up. "Please, Jon."

"Tell me what you want," said Jon.

"What you _said_ ," Tommy muttered, his face going red again.

"Oh my god," said Jon. "You want to play fireman?"

"You're an asshole," said Tommy, and collapsed onto the bed. "I want you to _fuck_ me, Jon, you fucking _know_ that, jesus––" and then he rolled onto his stomach and Jon couldn't see his face anymore.

"I _didn't_ know that," Jon whispered. He started to take his own pants off. "I wouldn't have—Tommy, I wouldn't have assumed."

"Condoms are in the drawer," said Tommy, muffled.

"Okay," said Jon, who couldn't help stroking himself a little, looking at Tommy's ass. "Jesus, okay."

Lube was also in the drawer. The bottle was unopened, as was the box of condoms. Jon tried to remember the last time Tommy had a girl back to the apartment.

"Is everything okay?" Tommy had propped himself up on his arms and was craning around inquisitively.

_Did you buy this stuff for us_? Jon wanted to ask. _What is happening_?

"Fine," he said out loud. "Yeah, god. Do you—have you actually done this before?"

"We discussed this in the car," Tommy pointed out.

" _I_ discussed it," said Jon, straddling his legs. Tommy's skin was so warm. "You told me to shut up."

"You told me to tell you to shut up!"

Jon leaned forward over him. "Tommy. I need to know how careful I gotta be. I mean. I'm gonna be careful, don't worry, I wanna—take care of you—I just, do you even know if you like it?"

Tommy buried his face in a pillow. " _Yes_ , Lovett, I like it."

"Oh," said Jon. "Well, that's good."

Tommy muttered something exasperated into the pillow.

"What was that?" Jon asked in his ear. "I couldn't hear you." He kissed the back of Tommy's neck. That made Tommy wriggle a little, so Jon held him still. He kissed down Tommy's bony back. "You're perfect," he said very quietly against the knobs of Tommy's spine. "You're beautiful." 

"What?" said Tommy.

"Oh, nothing," said Jon, and rubbed his cock at the split of Tommy's ass. Tommy moaned and bucked up and Jon felt suddenly less like he was despoiling some kind of museum-quality fine china. "Get on your knees for me, okay?"

Tommy slid his knees up immediately. He was still rock-hard. "Good boy," Jon said, and put a lubed finger to Tommy's hole. Tommy quivered and then went cooperatively still. Jon patted his hip with the hand that wasn't slicked up. He said, "I'm gonna just," and then pushed in slowly instead of finishing the sentence.

Tommy let out a breath and said, "Jon, _please_."

"You do like it," Jon marveled. And then, "Of course you do, I'm the one giving it to you." He had two fingers in now, and Tommy was taking them like a champ. "It's just like I thought," he told Tommy. "I predicted this in the car."

Tommy said, "Did you predict I would murder you if you didn't get the fuck on with it?"

"You're so greedy," said Jon with satisfaction, rolling on a condom. Everything that was happening was crazy: sweet Tommy with his ass in the air for him, his back a graceful curve, begging for it, begging for _Jon,_ Jon kneeling to put his slicked-up cock to Tommy's hole, one hand on Tommy's hip, starting to push in.

Tommy whimpered, tried to shove back against him. "Okay, okay," said Jon, and finally he was sliding in. Tommy was hot and tight and Jon was inside him; it seemed impossible, and then Tommy moaned and Jon started to move.

"Jesus, you feel good," said Jon. He was fucking Tommy in long, deliberate thrusts and every time he went deep Tommy made a noise that set him on fire. "Tommy, Tommy, you're so fucking good."

"Jon," Tommy gasped, "Yes, that's—like that—I—"

"Yeah," said Jon, "Yeah, Tommy." He was fucking in faster now, he'd lost sight of being, like, artful, about it, and he just wanted to bury himself in Tommy's ass. He reached around for Tommy's cock, and Tommy made a pained sound and thrust into Jon's fist. "You love this," said Jon, "come on, come on, give it to me," and Tommy wailed and came over Jon's hand. 

" _Tommy_ ," Jon said, and he bent quickly to kiss Tommy's back again, smearing his wet hand over Tommy's hip. "Sorry," Jon said stupidly, "oh, Tommy," and came.

A moment later he pulled out carefully and a little mournfully, because it was over, and everything came to an end, and the universe was tearing itself apart.

Tommy rolled over—they clearly shouldn't have done it on the duvet, but that was Tommy's problem, not his—and said, "I told you I would like it."

Jon tied off the condom, said, "You're welcome, I'll be right back," and went to the bathroom to clean up. When he returned to the bedroom with a fresh pair of boxers on, Tommy was still lying there in pretty much the same position. He smiled at Jon, so lovely it was ridiculous. "I see you're just going to lie in your filth," said Jon, dropping right down next to him.

"For a moment," said Tommy, and turned on his side to face Jon. "That was—"

"I mean it wasn't world peace," said Jon.

"Close enough for now," said Tommy.

It could be so perfect, Jon thought. If Tommy needed to be fucked on a regular basis, he would be happy to provide, and then Tommy would be able to chill out, and sometimes maybe fuck Jon instead so that _Jon_ could calm down, and then maybe they could get a red balloon and a _pony_ , jesus, what kind of bullshit had taken over his brain? He thought of Tommy at the reception, sipping wine by an antique bookcase, the same Tommy who was lying on the bed next to Jon with a streak of dried come on his side.

"Anyway," said Jon, "it's a shame you're a heterosexual."

"I know, right?" said Tommy. His fingers were moving lightly over Jon's hip. "Please remember me fondly when you move on to someone more appropriate."

"I promise," said Jon. "When I get to LA, they'll be like, _Why does that charming young man have such a haunted look in his eye?_ And I'll be like, _tragic fling, can't talk about it._ "

"Ah," said Tommy. "I always wanted to be a tragic fling."

"I just don't understand why I didn't know you were—" Jon burst out. "We—we're friends, so—"

Tommy bit his lip. "It seemed too complicated? I didn't want to get into it."

"This," said Jon, making a sweeping gesture that took in him, Tommy, the bed, the universe—"this is kind of into it. But I mean, whatever, right?" 

"Not whatever," said Tommy, very quietly. He touched Jon's mouth. "Jon, are you really thinking of going to LA?"

"Well, if you're moving to Norway."

"I feel like I lost the thread there," said Tommy. "I'm staying right here. Are you?" His eyes were trained steadily on Jon's.

Jon leaned forward and kissed him, so that he didn't have to look back. "I'm here now," he said.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr [here](https://valencing.tumblr.com).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [national security emergency](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10740093) by [hardlythewiser (sequinedfairy)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequinedfairy/pseuds/hardlythewiser)




End file.
